Christmas. With my two kids. But not my third. In the silence of this Sunday afternoon after Christmas my thoughts swirl around trying to figure out the best way compose this blog post.
I've had many confusing, conflicting thoughts since giving birth to my newest son. For many of his first few days, I wanted to call Zane Nathan. I've spoken of Nathan for eighteen months now (& pregnant with him for nine months prior to that, discussing the name we would use for our new child). It was as if the son I just gave birth to should have been him. I didn't have a son in my home for which that name was being used, but yet I used that name to speak of a son. My brain had to catch on to things which my heart had already been processing. I don't think it helped things that my new son looks like my first son. When his eyes were closed in sleep, I could look down and picture the face I saw in my short time with Nathan. I never saw Nathan full of life, but I picture that he would have been much like the little one I now hold in my arms. While I was pregnant, I questioned why God was giving us another son after losing our first. I've told him that it would be hard to follow-up the loss of a son with another son... that having a boy next would make me think of all that we missed out on with Nathan... that having a boy would make me unconsciously "replace" Nathan with this new one. I'd be lying if I didn't confess that these things have happened. It does make it harder to think of Nathan while seeing a perfectly healthy, alive newborn boy in my home. But, I have been tempted to "forget" my first son's existence because I now have one in my arms. Honestly, it'd be easier to forget. It'd be easier to not think about the shocking prognosis and stillborn birth that happened one ordinary Memorial Day weekend, while preparing for a church staff picnic.
So I don't know what all that means. I guess it just means that I'm still walking down this journey called grief. But, God has give us little Zane, who has added a new dimension to my life. He fills my days with exhausting joy. :)
1 comment:
I haven't ever experienced the loss of a child, but I know it must be painful. Hugs to you.
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